


The many Grandchildren of Gregory Boothroyd

by traveler0145



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Merlin (TV), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Accidental Cuddling, Family, Fluff, M/M, Photographs, everything except 00Q is just mentioned!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:06:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25200604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/traveler0145/pseuds/traveler0145
Summary: Q has heard all about MI6 from his grandfather, Gregory, also known as Major Boothroyd. Bond’s predecessor as 007 used to annoy Boothroyd to no end so when Q meets Bond he finds himself unable to resist making one or three references to his grandfathers work at MI6. The older Minions are in on it, the younger ones think it’s hilarious and Bond thinks Q is very pretty when he smiles so he won’t ask what the hell is going on, as long as it makes Q happy.Or: Q and the Minions treat quotes from Boothroyd like vines, Eve is a genius and Bond is in love. They get drunk, and Bond learns about Q.This developed from a 500 word Drabble to a 3.6k monstrosity. Also Q is a Holmes and has a fourth sibling.
Relationships: James Bond/Q, Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 5
Kudos: 150
Collections: 007 Fest Fancreations





	The many Grandchildren of Gregory Boothroyd

When Bond had first met Q he’d still been unaccustomed to the name Q in reference to the Quartermaster. For as long as he’d been an agent the Quartermaster had been Major Gregory Boothroyd, who had been referred to by most agents as Major Boothroyd.

This had made calling the new Quartermaster Q very easy, and even though Bond liked to let of snarky remarks about Q’s age, he was well aware that Boothroyd would have never appointed anyone as R who wasn’t perfectly fit to take over as Quartermaster at any given time. And yet James had thought that this new Quartermaster would be someone who wasn’t used to the antics of agents or at least the double-oh’s and thus easier to irritate. He was wrong.

At First he had thought it coincidence.

Q had sat next to him in the national gallery, made a comment about the inevitability of time and handed him his equipment. Then, just as he was about to leave, he had reminded Bond to return the equipment in one piece.

There had been something in his eyes Bond couldn’t quite place - but it came close to a look he know from his missions - something in the eyes of someone who had just fooled everyone in a game of poker to go all in, only to reveal a royal flush.

James had dismissed it, had thought he’d interpreted too much into a single look. He should have known better, of course there had been something. Saying these words had meant more to Q than the pride of being the Quartermaster of MI6 could rectify. He had smiled his tight little smile and his eyes had shone with pure mirth.

It had happened again and again; pieces of dialogue between him and Q that seemed to light the Quartermaster up.

Once he had been going over the speed limit while on mission; not an irregular occurrence, sure, but for some reason Q had seemed delighted when he reminded Bond that he had a licence to kill, not to break the traffic laws. Bond had hesitated momentarily and answered that, yes he was aware. The pure satisfaction Q had radiated when he said »Good!« Had been clearly audible over com. So had been R’s snort in the background.

Another time they’d been standing in Q branch and Q had begrudgingly handed James a ›class four grenade‹, whatever that meant. James had been delighted to find that it looked very much like an ordinary pen and made a witty comment about how the pen was mightier than the sword. Q had smiled as he reminded Bond that that was now in fact the case and that James had to thank Q for that. James had smiled flirtily. »Did you just make joke Q?«

Q just shook his head in something that seemed to be a combination of genuine distress and mirth. »I never joke about my work 007.«

At least two senior minions had trouble to stifle their laughs while one of the new ones working nearby just grinned for the remainder of Bond’s stay in Q-Branch.

Since it was common knowledge that basically anything in Q-brach was deadly - including any and all personnel - many of the A-list Agents and most of the double-oh’s were very careful when it came to touching things. The only double-oh who seemingly forgot this every time he appeared before and after missions was, of course, 007. He had the potentially fatal habit to pick up whatever was in his reach to twirl it around or trow it in the air.

One particular time he’d just put down a poisoned ring when he’d set eyes on a brown paper bag that looked innocent enough to him. When he went to pick it up Q turned around, lightning fast, and pulled the bag from his hands exclaiming loudly, »DON’T TOUCH THAT! That’s my lunch!« to the obvious amusement of everyone in the vicinity.

Whenever James said something remotely illogical, immature or not well thought out, Q immediately quipped »Oh, grow up 007«. After three weeks of this the phrase had become something of an inside joke between the minions and Bond, and even he could appreciate it, even though he didn’t quite understood why it was that funny. 

Bond only figured it out after Eve had invited him to one of her and Q’s monthly movie nights, though there was more drinking than movie watching.

***

They’d met at Q’s flat because it was located more or less exactly between Bond’s and Moneypenny’s. It was cozy and reasonably small, but not cluttered. The living room was not very lived in, which made sense to James when he considered Q’s working habits, but well furnished.

There was a worn couch that could hold all three of them if they squeezed, as well as an armchair and a wooden coffee table. Next to two bookcases there was a drawer that was probably supposed to hold silverware and tablecloths but the bottom drawer was pulled open and filled to the brim with scraps and bits of old tech.

Much more interesting was what Q had placed on top of the drawer. There were photos. Photos of the Quartermaster, some of him alone with different diplomas, some together with others or groups of people.

To James’ amazement one showed Q standing next to Mycroft Holmes. Bond had been introduced once, by his M, who hadn’t actually mentioned what Holmes did - only that he was basically everyone’s superior and also on speaking terms with the Royal family.

Another picture displayed a black door adorned with golden letters, telling the passing crowd that this was number 221b. In front stood an old lady with two younger men behind her. One of them was Sherlock Holmes, Bonds realised, the genius detective who’d killed himself a few years back. The other, Bond recognised from his army days as one lieutenant John Watson. Next to the old lady there was the Quartermaster, bespectacled and wearing one of his cardigans.

One photo, at least twenty years old, displayed a younger version of M, Olivia Mansfield, next to a stern looking woman in a emerald green gown, that looked like it came straight from the late 19. hundreds, a woman that could only be described as ›motherly‹ and the woman from the picture with the detective.

The most recent picture was probably the one of the royal wedding. Bond remembered reading about it in a paper he’d nicked from a minions desk on his way to the airport. The crown prince Arthur Pendragon had caused a worldwide uproar when he’d announced he was not only bisexual but also planning to wed one Myrdinn Holmes.

The picture that stood in the very front showed a younger version of Q and Major Boothroyd. Q was standing behind Boothroyd’s motorised wheelchair in the old Q-Branch, the one that Silva had blow up, and both were smiling brightly at the camera.

Bond turned to Q who was setting down glasses on a small couch table.

»You and Boothroyd. You were close, weren’t you?« James asked softly.

Q hesitated before stepping next to Bond. He picked up the frame and showed Bond the backside where someone had written ›Q and Q - the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree’

James turned to look at Q. He know how the Quartermaster looked, he had spent enough time staring at him when Q wasn’t looking but only now he noticed how similar Q and Boothroyd had been, both in complexion and behaviour.

»He was your grandfather. I’m... sorry for your loss« James stated.

»Who?« Moneypenny asked. She had appeared in the doorway to the small kitchen, holding a bottle of some alcoholic beverage in hand, which she had apparently opened already.

»Boothroyd.« James answered quietly.

Q smiled, the nostalgia in his voice barely concealed »He used to tell me stories about MI6, when I was little. About his work and the agents.«

»Did he tell you about what a great agent I was?« Bond smirked, trying to lighten the mood a little.

»By the time you were a double-oh I was already working for MI6, unofficially I mean. He told me about 007 - your predecessor that is. It was a joke between him and me, you know? The ›grow up 007‹. We would make wagers about how often he could get away with saying it to 007 before he got suspicious.«

Moneypenny snorted a little.

Q smiled his brilliant smile at her, melancholy all but forgotten now. »He told be about you, too. Said you were brilliant. He always wanted to make a bet about how you would be M some day. I never accepted because I knew he was right.«

Moneypenny put her head to one side. »I was still an agent back then…«

Q only shrugged. »He said you were too good to be an agent.«

Moneypenny blushed lightly and smiled happily. »Sounds like he was a good grandfather.«

Bond grinned. »Sounds like he was just like Q.«

Q turned to the coffee table to pour three glasses of what appeared to be Bombay sapphire and gave James and Eve one each. »You’re both right. Now, what movie shall we get drunk to?«

***

Three hours later they were sprawled on top of each other across the seating accommodations.

The only source of light was a small lamp, standing atop the drawer, which emitted a warm, candle like light.

Eve had called dibs on the armchair ages ago, eying Q and James with barely hidden mirth.

After two hours of drinking she’d picked up the framed photo of the royal wedding and waxed about the beauty of the crown princes sister, while Q and James smiled, already too intoxicated to mind the terrible puns and metaphors comparing the duchess’s hair to the night sky and her eyes to stars. In a final motion of grandeur she’d remarked that the lady looked like she could kill anyone, just by staring them down.

After half an hour she’d put the frame back and hadn’t said a thing for at least thirty minutes before exclaiming in a fit of something that Q could only call euphoria, »R is Q’s second in command because R comes after Q in the alphabet!«

Then she’d closed her eyes and started snoring softly.

Q, who had given up trying to keep his distance from James on the tiny couch and instead had now sprawled out on top of the other man like a drunk blanket, had only murmured »Bloody hell« before refraining from saying anything more and staring at the ceiling in silent contemplation instead.

Bond was silent. There was a warm, fuzzy feeling in his chest that could have been caused by alcohol as much as by the adorable idiot that had chosen him as his mattress and was now studying the ceiling.

Bond turned his head, slowly, as not to disturb Q, to look at the picture of Q and Boothroyd - Q’s grandfather - on the drawer next to the couch.

»Did you know M? Olivia Mansfield?« He asked softly.

Q turned his face towards the drawer too. »Why else would I keep her picture?« His answer had been barely a murmur but the voice was right next to James’s ear.

James snorted softly. »You can’t tell me you know everyone in these Photos Q.«

»You’re adorable.«Q smiled lazily against Bonds chest.

Bonds heartbeat quickened the slightest bit. »Q. You do know there is a photo of Mycroft Holmes on your drawer.«

Q wiggled a bit so he could see the frames without rearranging his vertebrae and frowned slightly. »Why wouldn’t I know Mycroft?«

Bond wanted to shrug, but Q sounded like he was almost asleep. » M - my M - introduced me once. Told me he was her superior. Said he was friends with the Royal family.« He paused for a second, before continuing »She also told me to never, ever, piss him off.«

»She knew you well, huh?«

»S’pose so.«

»Granperé told Mycroft about you too.«

»Boothroyd told Mycroft Holmes about me?«

»’Told him about all agents.« Q corrected.

Bond smiled about the absurdity. »Your Grandfather spied at MI6 for Mycroft Holmes?«

» ’course. So do I« Q slurred, before snuggling closer to James’ chest.

»Why? He’s Mycroft Holmes. ’s not like he needs outside support now, does he?«

»Outside?«

»Y’know, not family.«

»Boothroyd was Mycroft’s family, Bond.«

James chocked on air. »You’re related to Holmes? What, s’ he your uncle?«

»Don’t be daft Bond, I’m not related to a Holmes- «

»Could you stop calling me Bond all the time?«

»If you stop interrupting me I will. I’m not related to a Holmes, I am a Holmes.«

» You’re a Holmes… Mycroft Holmes is your cousin.«

»Brother.«

»…Ah.«

Q found that he was almost asleep, which was a feat in itself, considering where he was currently located.

Then James spoke up again. »That’s how you now the royal family then? Through Mycroft?«

»Why the royal family?«

»You have a picture of the royal wedding framed Q. Although I s’pose keeping a picture of your brother and your former Boss is slightly different from keeping picture of the Pendragon family, even if you were introduced. Hadn’t taken you for a royalist, Dear Quartermaster.«

»My former Boss?«

»M, Q. Olivia Mansfield?«

»Oh yeah. I don’t keep her picture because she w’s my boss.«

» ’Thought you only kept pictures of people you knew.«

»Actually not true. ’only keep pictures of Fam’ly.«

»You’re related to M?« Bond had known M had had children, but not much else.

»My mothers sister. One of the four Ms.« Q giggled like he’d made a formidable joke.

»Your’ aunt’s and mother’s names all start with M?« James asked, a smile on his lips.

» ’course not, James. You know M’s name was Olivia. They all grew up to be M though.«

Q reached out to grab the picture displaying M and what apparently were her sisters but failed.

James picked it up and handed it to Q, who turned so he faced the ceiling again and pointed at M to explain.

»You know Olivia Mansfield, born Holmes, who was called M for her position in MI6.«

He pointed at the woman who James had dubbed ›motherly‹ upon first glance a few hours back. »This is my mother. Her name is Violet Holmes. She kept her last name when she married my father but no one calls her Violet of even Mrs. Holmes. Everyone just calls her Mummy. Mycroft started it when we were kids and it stuck. This is her older sister, Minerva,« Q pointed out the stern looking woman. »She’s Headmistress in a… private school up north… well. And this is Martha, the youngest. She got married too, but Mr. Hudson did some illegal stuff on the other side of the pond and got himself on death trail. Martha asked Sherlock for help, of course. Now she lives in London again. Thus the four Ms; Minerva, Mummy, M and Martha.« Q trailed off.

James picked up the photo of the woman he now knew as Martha Hudson in front of the door and showed it to Q, pointing out the short man standing behind her left shoulder. »John Watson, right? I know him. Used to know him, I mean, in the army.«

»Hasn’t been a Watson in some time though. Goes by John Watson-Holmes now. ’S my brother in law.«

»Mycroft is married?« James asked softly. ›Mycroft is gay?‹ went unsaid.

»He’s married, alright. Not to John mind you, but Lestrade. His first name is Greg, but everyone ’cept Mycroft calls him Lestrade. Gregory Lestrade-Holmes is quite a mouthful, so we collectively decided to go with the easier option.« Q grinned lazily.

James blinked a few times. Now Q had lost him. »’Thought you said John was you brother-in-law?«

»I have more than one sibling, James. John is married to Sherlock, my second brother.«

» Thought I lost you back there for a mo’. How are you related to the Pendragons then? You in line for the throne or s’mthing?« James joked.

Q laughed for a few glorious seconds before catching his breath. » Yes, very funny James.«

»You said you only kept photos of your family Q,« James answered with fake outrage. »And now I have to find out you’re not actually related to Royalty?«

»Don’t be silly James, I know what I said. And technically I am related to them, though only by marriage. Hand me the photo of the wedding and I'll show you.«

James complied happily. »I have to say Q. After the confusion with your brothers I am now genuinely interested how you could possibly complicate this further.«

Q let out a stifled groan. He pointed out the few familiar faces out of the crowd of nobility behind them. While the nobles kept in the back the King stood in the middle of the picture, right behind the happy couple. To Arthurs right there was his sister, smiling happily at her brother, who only had eyes for his husband. »It’s not that bad. Let me show you. This is the king, as I hope you realise. These are his children Morgana also known as Eve’s long-time crush and -.«

»I know you think me a fool Q, but I do recognise the King of the country I have sworn my life to.« James smiled while shaking his head in disbelief.

Q groaned. »Oh shush James. If you’re so knowledgable, why don’t you tell me who these people are and save me the effort, hm?«

James mentally shrugged. There were only four people in Britain who were actually royals at the moment and he knew their names. After all, he had legally died for one of them.

He pointed at each person as he went along. » This is, as you have so graciously explained dear Q, the King, Uther Pendragon, whom I coincidentally happen to have sworn my life too. Then there’s the crown prince, Arthur Pendragon, who I will pledge my life to should I mysteriously manage to outlive the King. This one is the lovely lady who Eve has the undeniable crush on. Huh.« He pulled the framer closer. »She really does look like she could kill me. Name’s Morgana Pendragon, illegitimate daughter to the king. I believe she a duchess but I couldn’t tell you her title if my life depended on it.«

»If it’s any consolation, I don’t know it either.« Q quipped.

James rolled his eyes fondly. »I thought you wanted to save your breath, Q.«

Q only let out a ›tsk‹ noise, so James returned to his explanation. »And that is the crown prince’s husband, of whom I only know because I nicked a newspaper from Q-Branch on my way to the airport. Should both Uther and Arthur die before me I would pledge my life to him too, I suppose.« James mused. »His name is Myrdinn Pendragon. I’m sorry to admit I don’t know his title though.«

»He goes by ›prince consort‹. Now, you see who that is standing in the far left corner, right behind the lady so-and-so?«

»Is that…Mummy?«

»Hm hm. That next to her is my father. If you squint you can even see me, right next to Mummy. I was wearing a suit, you know. Mummy confiscated all my cardigans. To my left there even are two of my siblings and their husbands.« Q seemed genuinely upset about the fact that he hadn’t been able to wear a cardigan to the royal wedding.

»Two of your siblings? You have a sister?«

»Occasionally. They’re gender fluid.« Q frowned up at James, scrunching his nose. »You do know what gender fluidity is?«

»I’m an agent, I know about people. You have another sibling then?«

»’s male that day. Name ’s Merlin. He’s right there.« Q murmured, eyes fallen shut from fatigue.

James brought the picture to his face, trying to make out another figure in the crowd he now recognised as the Holmes’.

As if sensing his confusion Q looked up. »In the middle, James.«

James’ eyes darted back to the middle where the royal family stood.

For a moment it was silent.

»Q« James asked gingerly.

»Hm?« Q’s eyes had fallen shut again.

»Are you telling me your brother is married to the crown prince?«

»Sibling. Yes.«

»…Alright.«

It was quiet for another few seconds.

»Who used to be your favourite?«

»Hm?«

»You said Boothroyd used to tell you about the agents. Who was your favourite?«

»Moneypenny.« Q answered deadpan.

»Awe, you hurt me dear Q.« James put the pile of picture frames on the floor next to the couch, then he wiggled to make himself more comfortable and slung his arms around Q. »Who’s your favourite now?«

»Oh, grow up 007.« Q murmured, face pressed against Bonds chest. For a few seconds he was silent. Then Q spoke up again. »James?«

»Q.«

»Would you mind putting out the light?«

»Not at all. If you could do us all the favour and introduce Eve to your sister-in-law.«

»I’ll invite you both for Christmas at the palace.«

»You are lovely, you know that.«

»So are you. Now shut it.«

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by @caffeinatedflummadiddlebutmerlin, @tamquamm and @spiritofcamelot on Tumblr. (crossposted on @teamdoubleoh, @traveler0154)


End file.
